


Dragged Away

by Merkwerkee



Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [9]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse
Genre: Whumptober 2019, during his time in the Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: Sometimes the getaway is the hard part
Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643020





	Dragged Away

_Crunch, crunch, ssssshhhhf. Crunch, crunch ssssssshf._

Bruno paused, and squinted up into the remote, relentless sunlight. He’d been walking for hours and the sun was high overhead, beating down on the waves of golden grass for miles in every direction. Tunstall and Weber were nowhere to be seen; he’d missed the rendezvous hours ago but he couldn’t stop now.

_The compound is silent in the dark hours after midnight, sitting quietly in the deep stillness between floodlight beams. Dogs and men walk the fence as the swiveling lights make lazy arcs from high towers. Four men crouch in wait just beyond the furthest arc, their only sign of life the breaths that stir the grass in front of their faces. More men lurk on the further side of the base, waiting for a signal, bodies taught with tension stretched like a piano wire. The men with dogs turn the corner for another section of the fence; the floodlights flash away in relaxed silence._

_The four men move._

Bruno dropped the end of the tarp and shook out his hands, grimacing against their stiffness. He wiped his face and took a sip from his canteen.

_The four men move silently, in sync as they cross the last open field to the base of the fence. It is not electrified, and a few quick snips open a careful tear to admit first the smaller men, then the larger ones. A few precious seconds are sacrificed to minimizing the visible damage, and the four are on their way across the compound. A barracks is passed, an infirmary, a mess hall. The four split silently into two groups as the headquarters appears at last; the taller men veers left towards the main building, and the shorter pair to the low-lying outbuilding that has two bored and sleepy guards standing at the door._

_The blood glistens where it falls silently on dirt, and the door is open._

Bruno turned and propped up Graves’ head as he tipped some water down his throat. “Guess I finally found a way to make you shut the hell up,” he mutters to the unconscious man.

_The first group makes their way through the headquarters building, the taller one’s knife shining in the light of the passing floodlights. Four charges have been placed, and the fifth is resting comfortably in his hand. The door swings open as they approaches, and the knife of his shorter companion - no less red - flashes as another guard fails in his duty. The larger man places the fifth charge with some delicacy in a room full of desks, and takes three specific folders from a nearby cabinet before leaving the room._

_The second team places their explosives with care as menacing chemicals shine dully in the light that passes sightlessly through dirty windows, floodlights uncaring in the night. Their steps are light and quick, their way unhindered by guards, and seven charges are placed before the sky begins to dim with approaching dawn. They slip from the stooped building and out into the dimming night; the appointed place of meeting is not far as the crow flies, but they must reach it before full dawn._

_A dog begins to bark._

Bruno grunted as he checked the bandages on Graves’ arm. The bite hadn’t been too bad, and the dog was unlikely to be rabid. Still, the guy was in for some painful shots when they got back to base.

_The first team is running now; the man whose dog had sounded the alarm releases it and others join it in leaping toward the two figures. The floodlights no longer follow their meandering arcs, and are now sweeping the ground with dangerous purpose, each definitive line traced closing the distance on the two remaining men._

_The dogs do not require the light from above, and launch themselves at the two fleeing men. They find no purchase on the larger man; he bats them away as gnats with the butt of his gun. The shorter man is borne to the ground; his compatriot kicks the dog off him and hauls him to his feet and towards the slit made earlier in the fence. The shorter man’s cursing is audible only to the man who has hold of his arm, who has heard it all before. A light finds them ten steps shy of the fence, and bullets follow it immediately in a harsh stutter._

_The shorter man stumbles._

Bruno re-wrapped the bandage on the bite - he’d been in a hurry and had tightened it too much the first time - before turning to the bandage on Graves’ calf. A through and through shot, which was something to be grateful for later but for right now just made wrapping it tightly a priority.

_The larger man takes the shorter man under one arm and drags him bodily through the wire; he can only hope the other team made it out before the shitshow started. The lights are following them beyond the fence and more shots ring out. A rising alarm is beginning to wake the base, and more hounds can be heard baying into the night. The larger man shifts to make a continued half-carry easier, and reaches into one of the many pouches on the shorter man’s belt. The shorter man makes no objection, and the larger man pulls out a small box with an antenna and a button on the side, and presses the button._

_The world explodes in light._

Bruno tied a new bandage over the bullet holes and stood with a groan. Gathering the end of the tarp, he turned and re-oriented himself against the sun; they had a long to go for the rendevzous, and Tunstall was probably fretting himself to flinders in his own, stoic way.

_Crunch, crunch, ssssshhhhf. Crunch, crunch ssssssshf._


End file.
